Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Cop?
by Fenrir's Daughter
Summary: When a local boy is hospitalized, Spinner Cortez is the number one suspect. But there's someone more sinister lurking in the shadows, and the gamer learns all too well that sometimes a badge can hide cruel intentions.
1. Alibi

A/N: This is going to be a veeeeeeeeeerrry DARK fic, or at least that's how I'm planning it. If you have a soul, you are probably going to cry. I'm not going for emo, but rather a particular subtype of post-traumatic stress disorder. If I've done it right, it should read a little like an episode of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit. It's under angst for a reason. I'm starting it off as rated T and it's going to seem like nothing seriouss is going on until a little later.

**WARNING: The following story contains adult themes suitable for mature audiences. This is not a drill. The rating will go up to M starting at the next chapter. Reader discretion is advised. Thank you.**

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><p>It was official; this was the most boring Tuesday afternoon Stanford had ever suffered through. There was no threat against this interstellar peace to be found as of late. The Vandals were licking their wounds and sharpening their claws, waiting for a chance to strike down their enemies. Whatever the Red Sentients were planning, they were keeping chatter to a minimum. Even Zemerik was out of commission, as far as they knew. The robot cult known as the Alpha Code was staying in its little corner of the Torborian Badlands, and not a peep had been heard from them. All this added up to a very slow week for the Battle Force 5 and absolutely nothing to complain about. But Stanford being Stanford, having nothing to complain about was <em>something<em> to complain about, and this peace did not sit at all well with him. Maybe, just maybe, deep down…he knew the other shoe was about to drop. Maybe he had a feeling this was the calm before the storm. …Or maybe he was just a whiny little git who liked to complain about everything and nothing. The point was, he was unhappy despite the time off the team had found.

Stanford glanced at Spinner; even that obnoxious prankster was quiet as a mouse. Why, the elder Cortez was practically sedate! It was terribly out of character, the manner in which he sat calmly with an air of utmost confidence, positively radiating cool. Spinner was a playful, mischievous sort of fellow with a love of bad jokes and a habit of pulling malicious pranks, but here he was, silent and smiling like he knew something his friends did not. That must have been what was bothering him, he thought. Spinner was up to something. Barely listening to his teammate's conversations, he watched the gamer like a hawk.

Oh, and there was some movement! Spinner appeared to be waving at someone. Stanford followed the gamer's line of sight to the door and saw a large and particularly frightening man in a Hawaiian shirt. It took a special variety of man to make a Hawaiian shirt look scary. He had a certain…_presence_ was the only word Stanford could think of to describe it, though he knew it was inadequate to describe the sense of foreboding he got from the large, bearded man. But Scary Hawaiian was not waving back at Spinner. Rather, the small child who held his hand enthusiastically greeted the avid gamer. A little boy wearing a cape seemed to be waving a toy lizard at Spinner…No, wait, it crawled up his arm. He was waving a **live** lizard at Spin. But presently the boy followed his father to a table on the other side of the diner, and Spinner's attention turned back to his teammates.

His waving had not drawn just Stanford's attention, however. A storm shock had not opened for a few days, and most members of the Battle Force 5 had taken the opportunity to rest up and go off doing their own thing. Spinner had only really had serious contact with Sherman since returning home Sunday night, and even he had gotten a short version of Spinner's whacky misadventures. But now, all of his teammates were staring at the gamer's bandaged hand.

"So what happened to your hand, dude?" AJ asked, taking another bit of his pizza.

"What, this?" Spinner replied, holding up his injured right hand. "Oh, I got mugged on Sunday."

Sherman dropped his fries. "What? Why didn't you say anything when you got home? Are you hurt?" Spinner tried in vain to fend off his younger brother, who was now delicately checking him for injuries, asking if it pained him when he did this or that. "Did you recognize your attacker? I thought small towns were supposed to be safe. Where's the sheriff when you need him?"

"Bro, chillax!" he finally insisted. "I skinned a knuckle when I punched him. Dude wasn't bringing his A-game and got toasted."

"But you're sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine! Jeez, Granma didn't fuss this much."

The monotony had been broken, but seemed to settle back around them now. Stanford went back to picking at his key lime pie; he had probably eaten too much already, and he was debating whether or not to finish it. Not to mention he only got it on the house because the diner patrons like to make 'limey' jokes at his expense. Then a little flash of jumpy movement caught his attention and he casually glanced up; a thin, twitchy young man with a silly-looking bucket hat over his red hair was approaching Spinner.

"Hey, man, look," the jumpy fellow said. "I just wanted to apologize for the other day at the shop. I know Chet can get pretty…_hands on_ with his sales pitch—"

"Yeah, that's an interesting way of phrasing it," Spinner interrupted.

"Look, if you still wanted to come shopping, take this card. It's got all the hours when Chet's usually off somewhere else. Come in any of those hours, and I'll give you a discount for your troubles."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks, Mitch," Spinner said accepting the card. They shook hands.

Stanford was not the only one watching Spinner's exchange. In the back of his mind, Vert Wheeler's gears were turning. He knew this particular redhead, though he could not quite remember where. In a number of alternate timelines in which Vert had been raised in California, he had wound up driving for a Dr. Peter Tezla, pigeonholed into saving the universe…multiverse, whatever… from evil robots created by an otherwise outwardly peaceful alien race. It was the same story told in a different way, in a different time…and usually with fewer mutants. In many of those timelines, Vert had eventually landed with the Teku, an LA street racing team focused on techno music that had a heated rivalry with a heavy metal-themed team, and the young man before him had been the Metal Maniacs' mechanic. But this was in another lifetime, of course; Vert did not know all of this consciously. He knew this "Mitch" person from somewhere more mundane, merely giving him this insanely strong sense of déjà vu—or rather, as he was thinking in that moment,_ 'that feeling; you can only say what it is in French.'_

"Do I know you from somewhere?" he finally asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Mitch scowled. "Yeah, you're that freshman who used to pick on me when I was a senior."

Finally, the déjà vu went away and everything came into clarity. They had attended school together! Vert smiled, remembering their time as classmates far more fondly than the redheaded fellow before him. "Oh, yeah! Monkey McClurg, right?"

"My name is Mitchell!" he snapped, suddenly violently angry. "Not Prince Charles, not Radar Ears, and sure as hell not Monkey! It's _Mitchell!"_ Mitchell stopped and took a breath, throwing up his hands in surrender. He looked genuinely hurt. "Y'know, I heard you had grown up a bit and you weren't nearly so much an asshole as you used to be, but I guess that was just too good to be true. Take care, Spin. I hope you find a better quality of friend."

Mitch McClurg turned on his heel and exited the diner. A few minutes later he came back, blushing profusely, paid Zeke, took his pizza, and left again.

Okay, Stanford thought. That exchange had certainly been entertaining. Stanford made a mental note to question the flummoxed Vert about his high school years. He had trouble picturing the blonde as a bully, unless he squinted just right and remembered the day they had accidentally brought evil alternate universe Vert home with them. So for all that strangeness, maybe this day was not so boring after all.

The little bell on the door signaled yet another new customer for Zeke's Diner. The place certainly was hopping for a Tuesday afternoon! And this time, Stanford's eyes nearly bugged out of his head as the intoxicating scent of jasmine and vanilla washed over him. Instinctively he nudged Vert in the side, alerting him to the attractive female in the hopes that they might make a game of it, but the leader of the Battle Force 5 merely rolled his eyes and snorted.

He was insane to ignore her, Stanford thought. She was tall and curvy, filling out her tight daisy dukes and low-cut tank top almost too perfectly, blonde curls framing her gorgeous, whiskey brown eyes…_and she walked right up to SPINNER._ She kissed Spinner on the cheek and curled a piece of his hair around her finger. Spinner grinned at her as she walked off shaking it so all the guys would know what they were missing. As soon as she was out of sight he started inspecting his nails nonchalantly, as if she meant nothing to him.

"I call bullshit!" Stanford said, throwing down his napkin in disgust. "When the bloody hell did you get so popular? You expect me to believe you got with that leggy blonde? There's no way! There's just no bleedin' way! You've been acting weird all day and I know you're up to something!"

Spinner looked at him askance as if what Stanford had said was so asinine it did not even warrant a face palm. "You know, I do have a social life outside the base," he said darkly.

"_Since when?"_

"…Sunday."

Right on cue, Grace brought Tezz his sundae. She turned towards Spinner, scowling. "I can't believe you even pay any mind to that bottle-blonde skank. God, back in high school she was like the village bicycle; _everybody's_ had a ride."

"Yeah, even Grace tapped that," Vert said, smirking.

"I was drunk!" the waitress snarled.

"Yeah, so was she. And so were the other two cheerleaders, as I seem to recall…"

Grace backhanded the leader of the BF5 before storming off in a huff.

Vert straightened out in the booth, cracking his neck. He rubbed his aching jaw, looking more annoyed than hurt, and glared in Grace's direction.

"Dude, that's my girlfriend!" Zoom said, lightly punching him in the arm.

"Yeah, and I've got a video of your girlfriend's lesbian foursome. Y'know, if you're interested."

Zoom tried to sound indignant when he insisted they would discuss it later, but Vert knew his scout was too excited for words.

Stanford gaped, eyes still on Spinner. "But-but! What! HOW! Okay, start over. What the bloody hell did you do on Sunday? I know you left in the afternoon and Vert said you didn't get in until two in the morning. What happened?"

"Umm, well, it was after I got Chinese," Spinner murmured, counting off on his fingers. "You were right, Tezz; Lucky Panda's egg foo young is to die for. I wandered around Totem Corners some more, and I met Bambi."

"The town slut!" Grace called from behind the counter.

"Yeah, it was an interesting weekend," Spinner said, grinning.

This did not compute. By all accounts, by all the people who were being so friendly to him, Spinner came off as cool. Spinner was an unrepentant geek! He had admitted on several occasions that many of his evenings consisted of rolling dice and playing make believe. How did he have more friends in this town than someone filthy rich and of noble blood? It made no sense!

"It's not that big a deal, Stanford. You heard Grace. Bubbles'll get with anyone."

"Bambi," Vert corrected.

"Whatever her name is," Spinner said dismissively.

"Why would she even look at you?" Stanford asked, still in shock.

Spinner's ears turned red. "Well, I was over by the Tipsy Roadrunner, see, and…"

Spinner trailed off as a shadow loomed over him. Standing next to the table was Sheriff Johnson, as if he had heard Sherman asking for him earlier. The deep set scowl that he wore on his face was far more imposing than the golden badge that gave him his authority, and they knew they were in for a world of trouble.

"Spinner Cortez?" he sternly demanded. "Are you acquainted with a Mr. Lloyd Carter?"

Spinner glowered. "Yeah, that'd be the walking cancer who tried to mug me twice in one night." He turned back to his friends. "Over a D&D game. Can you believe that crap? What a loser!"

The sheriff raised his eyebrows. "And you didn't report it?"

"Well, I had someplace to be," he contended. "Anyway, it's not like he was successful. The worst injury I got was hurting my hand when I decked him."

"So you _assaulted_ Mr. Carter?"

"What? No, it was self-defense! What did he tell you?"

"Nothing. Mr. Carter is in critical condition. He's in surgery right now."

That caught Spinner by surprise. "W-what? I—"

"He was found comatose on the salt flats with a concussion and other severe injuries. Seems an awful lot to me like someone left him out there to die."

"I don't know _anything_ about _**that!"**_ Spin insisted, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "Last time I saw him was Sunday night, in the alley across from the Tipsy Roadrunner. I went straight to Dragon's Wing Gaming after that. You can check with Strider."

Sheriff Johnson called across the diner. "Is that true, Mr. Drake?"

A scary looking fellow in a Hawaiian shirt answered. "Yeah, Spin got there around seven. I can let you check the security tapes just as soon as Junior finishes his onion rings."

"Much obliged," the sheriff rumbled before turning back to the elder Cortez. "In the meantime, I'm going to have to take you to the station for questioning."

Spinner hoped no one noticed him cringe or heard him whimper, but he knew it was impossible to miss. Of course he had not been involved in something so terrible, but if he were the last person to see Lloyd relatively unharmed, and seeing as he had caused at least _some_ of that harm… It was all perfectly logical and perfectly obvious. He had to admit, things looked pretty bad. Really, in light of certain facts, who would _not_ consider him a suspect?

"Uh, yeah. Sure," he said, swallowing nervously. "Anything to help, Sheriff."


	2. A Sinister Surprise

A/N: As previously stated, I have changed the rating to M. As in, "Mature Audiences." Please, people. I won't spoil the plot, but it's going to get bad. You won't like it. Trust me, just turn back while you still can.

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><p>It was quiet at the station. It made sense to Spinner that would be the case; Handler's Corners was a small, nothing little town. The desert to the east and the salt flats to the west were even less populous, making for a very sparse county. Few residents meant little crime, and not much to keep the sheriff busy. Having such a terrible act of violence occur in this jurisdiction must have been appalling.<p>

Spinner gave a detailed account of his adventures in Totem Corners, recalling every name he had been given and every instance he checked a clock. Sunday had been very busy indeed.

"Well, I'll have to check the security tapes from the Tipsy Roadrunner, but you said you went straight to Dragon's Wing Gaming after that?"

Spinner nodded fervently. "Right there, honest injun. I worked out some details with Mr. Drake, and then we played D&D for six hours with Kitty, Tag, and Bink."

"Tag Castelucci and Binky Ford?" he asked. Well, there went all hopes of finally busting those two chuckleheads. Tag and Bink were well known to have issues with Lloyd; they were the next most likely suspects. But if Spinner's alibi checked out, and he had just alibied those two…

"Yeah, those are the guys."

"They were with you the whole time?"

"Yeah."

This was not entirely accurate. Spinner had been there forty five minutes before Tag and Bink showed up, but had been too distracted to notice. The poor guy had no idea what he was saying, or how badly this misinformation would mess with his life.

The sheriff sighed. "Would you like to make an official statement on your whereabouts that night?"

"Anything to help, Sheriff Johnson. Lloyd's a jerk, but he didn't deserve something so awful."

The front door of the station swung open, closing a moment later, and Spinner looked up. The man who had just walked in had the same uniform as Sheriff Johnson except for the badge; while the sheriff's was gold, his was silver. He was around the same age as the sheriff, but he was taller and leaner and had an all-around friendlier air about him. The kind smile right beneath his grey, grandfatherly moustache seemed to reassure the world that, 'Yes, I aim to serve and protect, thank ya, ma'am.'

"Bubba Johnson, what the hell're you doin' here?"

"I _work_ here, Roy," the sheriff said in annoyance.

"Aw, that ain't what I meant an' you know it," he shot back, rolling his eyes. "You were supposed to meet Annabeth for dinner."

"Working the Lloyd Carter case. She'll have to understand."

Roy smiled sympathetically. "Bubba, you know you work too hard. Annabeth ain't gonna wait around for you forever. One day you'll look up from your desk and she'll be gone. Go an' meet yer wife. I can handle this little fella." He smiled warmly at Spinner. "Whatcha say, kiddo? You fixin' to give me any trouble?"

"No, sir," Spinner meekly replied. This guy seemed pretty nice, and _much_ less intimidating than the sheriff. If he were handling the gamer'

Sheriff Johnson was not the kind of man to shirk his responsibilities, but Roy's words rang true. His marriage had been rather strained as of late, with the Sheriff always patrolling so diligently and Annabeth putting in such long hours as the District Attorney. She could only be so patient… Eventually the sheriff sighed, shaking his head. "Alright, alright, I'm going."

"Go on, you! Get!" the deputy said, grinning as his boss and friend left.

"Thanks a million, Roy," Sheriff Johnson said, walking out the door. "I owe you one."

"Enjoy your dinner, Bubba!"

Once he had waved the sheriff goodbye, Roy clapped his hands together and regarded Spinner with a pleasant smile.

"Hey there, now," he greeted. "I'm Deputy Roy Cash. Let's see…according to Bubba's notes, you're 'Spinner' Cortez; interesting nickname, Ulysses."

Spinner's ears turned red and he sank into his chair, grateful they were alone. The friendly deputy chuckled.

"Nothing to be ashamed of there, son. Bubba's real name is Eugene." He winked. "No priors, moved in from out of state, only family in town's your brother. You seem like a real nice boy, Spinner. So tell me something here—how'd you get mixed up in this mess?"

"It's all there in the notes!" he snapped, still sore about the use of his birth name.

"Well, I'd be much obliged to hear it from you, son," Roy said gently, his expression of genuine concern. "Bubba can be awfully hard-headed sometimes, and I wouldn't want to miss anything on account of him already deciding you're guilty. He means well, but…"

Roy shrugged.

'Clearly,' Spinner thought, 'This is a country bumpkin rendition of good-cop-bad-cop.' Deputy Cash was only being nice so Spinner would confess.

"I was going to play some games at Dragon's Wing when Lloyd tried to grab me," he carefully repeated for what felt like the millionth time. "He'd already twisted my arm and threatened me a few hours earlier, so I thought he was going to try again."

"Were you scared?"

"I was angry," Spin corrected. "I knew I could take him, he had the fat lip to prove it. Why was he wasting my time? I smacked him a good one. I saw he hit his head when he fell, but I didn't even think about it. I just walked away."

"That could explain the concussion," Cash muttered. "I'll have the M.E. look into it. You say you walked away?"

"I walked right to Dragon's Wing Gaming." He paused sulking. "I saw he hit his head. He was down for the count and I just left him."

"You were angry, son. You weren't thinking straight. Lloyd brings that out in people."

"But if someone grabbed him while he was helpless it was my fault!"

"The investigation's only just started. Lloyd'll recover and we'll find out who did this. Everything'll work out just fine, you'll see." Deputy Cash smiled and changed the subject. "So, did you have a nice time?"

Spinner blinked. "What?"

"Playing with the other kids. Did you have fun?"

"Yeah, it was awesome," Spin told him, trying to sound enthusiastic. "Strider's really nice and he keeps everyone in line. All the players get way into character and goof around. Tag and Bink are so cool and they said they wanted me to come hang out with them again later in the week. And I'm pretty sure Kitty _likes_ me!"

"Heheh, that certainly sounds like a good time. You seem happy. Hell, I remember in the eighties when everybody was all, 'Dungeons & Dragons is Satan worship!' I always knew that was bullshit. Ain't nothin' wrong with a little fantasy."

Spinner rolled his eyes. "Augh, yeah. It's the same thing with people saying video games cause violence. It's ridiculous!"

"Well, it sounds like you're livin' fairly well. How about your brother? Are you and him getting along okay?"

"Yeah. We have a great time working for Spectra Motors."

He raised his eyebrows. "The Wheelers' company?"

"We're very lucky. Sherman's a brilliant engineer and he loves his job. Vert's been good to us."

The deputy was quiet for a moment, and his hand moved involuntarily to a small scar on his neck. He frowned.

Spinner had only just remembered what Madame Wise Raven had told him about Vert's mother, and he wondered, was Roy Cash the man she had spoken of? "It's a really friendly atmosphere. We're all very close," he said softly.

Cash smiled, leaning forward.

"Y'know, Spinner," he said, scooting a little closer. "You look a lot younger than nineteen. You wouldn't be dumb enough to try and slip me a fake ID, would you? That carries a mighty hefty fine."

Spinner shook his head. "No, sir! I'll be twenty in November! Really!"

"Hmph. Well, I could see that brother of yours, but you?"

"Sherman and I are fraternal twins. I'm older by three hours!"

"You're kidding. With that adorable baby face?"

Spinner looked around, confused. "What?"

Deputy Cash gently caressed the wary gamer's face, smiling in that same grandfatherly way. Spinner held stock still, suddenly very uneasy.

"No, I think you look much younger…"

"If you don't have any more questions," Spinner nervously stammered, "I need to get back to the garage."

"Stay a spell and talk with me. I can give you a ride back."

"Thanks, that's okay. I really should get going," Spinner said, heading for the door. Deputy Cash blocked his way. The elder Cortez cringed as Cash grabbed hold of his bony wrist, dragging him back into the office and closing the door.

"You ain't going nowhere, boy," he growled, pushing Spinner down onto the desk. He strangled the young man, both hands around his throat. Spinner thrashed and gasped, trying desperately to get away, but Cash was too strong. He switched to a headlock and held the gamer tighter, bruising his arms and squeezing poor Spinner's windpipe shut. The slight young man lost consciousness.

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><p>Spinner Cortez awoke to crushing pain and a cool breeze, his wrists held down above his head against the surface of the desk. Glancing about dazedly, he could see some clothing strewn about the office. He was scared, and confused. Had he been answering questions? It took a moment to register what was happening as fresh oxygen returned his brain, making him fully conscious once more. Once the gamer realized what was causing the pain, and who was undressing him with one hand and using the other to pin him down, he cried out and struggled to free himself.<p>

"Two for flinching!" Cash called, laughing at the gamer's fright. He slapped the young man's bare buttocks, holding him down as he wailed. "You go on and scream all you want, boy. No one's gonna hear ya."

"P-lease stop!" Spinner begged, tears rolling down his face. "Don't hurt me! Just let me go! Please! I promise I won't tell anybody!"

"Oh, you ain't tellin' anyone regardless," Deputy Cash insisted, bending him over the desk.

Not telling anyone? Once this psycho had his way with the computer geek, he was a dead man! Spinner had to get out of there! The young man scrambled over the desk with his pants around his ankles, trying to dress as he ran. He made it just barely out of the office door before he tripped and the deputy pulled him back. Cash growled, punching Spinner in the stomach. The air left the hacker's lungs and he curled up into a ball. Cash picked him up and laid him out lengthwise on the desk, on his back so he could see his face.

"So young," he moaned, leaning into him.

Spinner screamed.

The hacker struggled to free himself from the searing pain, but Deputy Cash's bone crushing grip held his wrists down. His hips were pinned to the desk. The more he thrashed, the harder Cash bucked into him. He kept whimpering, begging for Deputy Cash to stop, but after a while, Spinner just lay there and took it. He never stopped crying, and it never stopped hurting, but he just had no fight left in him.

Deputy Cash slowed, scowling. "Aw, why'd you stop? It's more fun if you push back."

Spinner sobbed and looked away. That only served to anger the deputy further. Cash grabbed his hair and yanked, turning the gamer's head so he _had_ to look at him.

"Pay _attention,_ dammit. I took valuable time outta my day for this."

Spinner squealed in pain and terror, forced to watch the cruel face of his attacker. He would never forget the look in Deputy Cash's eyes when he came.

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><p>Spinner sat rigidly in the passenger's seat of the police cruiser, staring straight ahead. He hurt <em>everywhere.<em> He had intense aches and stabbing pain in places he had not even known he had. But rather than whine and complain as was usually his nature, he stared straight at the setting sun and said nothing. He was too surprised. Members of the Sheriff's Department were sworn to serve and protect. People in authority were supposed to be safe to be around. Humans were not evil like Red Sentients, Vandals, or Sark, yet here he was, getting a ride home from his…his…he could not even think it. What was going on? How had he gotten here?

"Now, don't think for a second about tellin' anybody what happened," said Deputy Cash. "Nobody will ever believe you. It's your word against mine, and I'm an officer of the law. Even if you do say anything, I can just make it all go away. Get it?"

Spinner bit his lower lip and stifled a sob, tears rolling down his face.

Cash chuckled. "You don't sound too convinced. Maybe we should go back to the station and talk about this some more?"

"I-I won't say a thing."

"Because no one would believe you anyway," Cash repeated smugly.

"Please, just take me to the garage."

The deputy gave an amused smile. "That's as good a place as any to discuss things."

Spinner inwardly cringed. 'Please, let the team be in the garage. Please, let them be aboveground and not on the test track. Please don't let them be at the diner.' He was paralyzed with fear at the thought of being alone with Deputy Cash a single moment longer than was required, unable to blink until he saw the saber. He let out a breath he had not realized he was holding as Vert waved hello and the cruiser came to a stop. Spinner wiped his eye, forced a smile, and hopped out, dashing to the blonde's side despite the burning pain that coursed through his body.

"Thanks for the ride, Deputy Cash! Bye!"

"Wait a minute, Cortez!" he barked, and the gamer winced, freezing up. "Don't forget what we talked about," he said sternly.

"N-no, sir," said Spinner. "I won't forget."

"We may need to bring you in again as new evidence surfaces," he said with that godforsaken grandfatherly smile, as if he had not just brutalized an innocent young man. "Keep cooperating, and don't leave town. You got that?"

Spinner nodded and hoped to God he was not shaking. Once the cruiser had pulled away, he sighed with relief and ran a hand through his hair. But suddenly the gamer jumped in terror at the leader of the Battle Force 5 touching his shoulder.

"Whoa, hey, easy!" Vert chuckled. "How'd it go at the station?"

Spinner whimpered, anxious to run. "Not that great."

The blonde's eyes became very serious. "Spin, I know you're a good guy and you didn't do it. But you have to be very careful what you say during the investigation doesn't compromise the team's secret. Can you do that?"

"I only told them what I was doing that night. You guys barely even came up."

"They'll get this cleared up before you know it, Spinner," Vert said, his smile returning. "Everything'll be just fine. You'll see."

Spinner was very quiet for a moment. "Yeah. Fine."

Vert raised an eyebrow as Spinner practically sprinted for the elevator.

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><p>Spinner ignored the greetings and questions of his friends, rushing past them and straight to the showers. He threw his clothes into the hamper and scrubbed himself under the scalding hot water for what felt like a year, and still was not nearly clean enough. The laughing would not go away, nor would the pain. Sweet Jesus, the pain. He dared hardly even to blink; every time he closed his eyes the bruises throbbed, and he felt like Cash was there with him. He needed to go to the games room. He needed to get his mind off of what happened. He needed to forget. He needed to feel like he was not a victim.<p>

He needed to shoot someone.

He was the terror of his clan, the infamous TijuanaGenius. He had unlocked every achievement, held the record for fastest speed runs on every stage, and maximized his kill ratio beyond what anyone else had. He imagined every player on the server quaking with fear as he logged on, whispering over the channel when they saw his tag, warning all the n00bs to duck and cover. But still he could not find that toothy grin of manic glee that should have felt so familiar. He only became colder and more frustrated as the hours passed. He grew tired of racking up headshots in _Modern Warfare 2_ and instead stalked opponents with a knife, but even this did nothing to reduce his stress. Spinner eventually quit, throwing down his controller in disgust. He hung his head, covering his face with both hands in the darkened room.

He was alone. He was hurt. He seethed with rage and pain and tears unshed. No matter how he tried, the gamer could not forget what had been done to him. He closed his eyes and he could hear Deputy Cash laughing at him.

_No one will ever believe you…_

The whole time, he had been so helpless. The feelings he thought he had worked through on Sunday came crashing back. He was small, pathetic, and weak; everywhere he went, there would always be someone stronger to exploit that.

…_I'm an officer of the law._

This man—this heartless monster with a badge had perverted his oath to serve and protect. He had abused his power and hurt Spinner. How dare he? The deputy had no idea who he was dealing with. He was a genius hacker of unparalleled ability. Thanks to years of video games, he knew weapons systems and battle strategy better than anyone. He was fighting to save the multiverse from violent scum worse than that crooked cop could imagine. He had weapons and ammo at his disposal. Vengeance would only take an hour or so under cover of darkness. The rest of the BF5 would never have to know. He would just have to make sure he got the drop on Deputy Cash, him being so much stronger than the elder Cortez. But…

…_yOu aIn'T gOiNg NoWhErE bOy…_

Spinner started to shake as he heard those terrible words again, clapping his hands over his ears and whimpering. He nearly succeeded in calming himself, too, until he felt something brush against his shoulder. He sat bolt upright and screamed.

"Bro, it's just me!" Sherman pulled his hand away, startled. "Is everything okay?"

Spinner opened his mouth to say something and then closed it, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. He simply could not do it; he could not bring himself to say the words. "I'm fine. What time is it?"

"It's almost three in the morning. Aren't you coming to bed?"

"I'm not really tired."

"You look like you're about to keel over, Spin." Sherman furrowed his eyebrows, sitting down next to his brother, all too conscious of the manner in which he scooted further away. When he finally spoke, his voice was very quiet. "Spin…what happened at the station today?"

"Nothing happened," he snapped defensively.

"Spinner, you're my brother and I love you," Sherman insisted. "But if you're in trouble, I need to know. This Lloyd guy—there are a lot of people saying you fought him on Sunday, and more saying he's probably going to **die.** Now, I know you wouldn't do something like that…on _purpose_…but if he _upset_ you enough—we all have our limits and if you were pushed too far, I understand. But we need to come up with a strategy that—"

Spinner abruptly stood up with a very strained smile. "You know what? I think it's time we got our own rooms."

"Spinner—"

"Even if we forget for a second that you should know me _better_ than that and that I would _never_ drag a guy into the desert and break his fucking _legs,"_ Spinner snarled, rounding on his younger brother, "It's a logistical impossibility that I had anything to do with that! I was on foot and went immediately somewhere else! I have an alibi that **will** check out. There's no way I could have taken Lloyd that far out onto the salt flats and gotten back that fast! Christ, bro, I can't believe you think I'm guilty! Have a little faith!"

"Well, things look pretty bad, is all…"

"Fuck off, Sherman!"

He wished, just this once, that the base had simple wooden doors suitable for slamming, and not those gently closing steel airlock style doors like something out of Star Trek. Under the right circumstances, the dramatic effect of a slamming door could be downright therapeutic.


	3. Right to Remain Silent

"Medical examiner called," said Cash. "He said the angle of the fall in the Tipsy Roadrunner tape's consistent with Lloyd's head injury. Looks like Cortez is our man."

Sheriff Johnson grumbled. "Shit, the time stamp on the Dragon's Wing footage is immaculate. Ain't no way Cortez could have done it. He wouldn't have had time. Something happened to Lloyd after he left that alley, but it's a blind spot. We're back to square one."

"He looked pretty confused from getting knocked around. Maybe he wandered out onto the flats by himself."

"Yeah, and I bet he broke his own legs, too," the sheriff said sarcastically, shooting a glare in the deputy's direction. "Don't be an idiot, Roy."

"Just a theory," the deputy mumbled.

"Well, it's a dumb one." The sheriff shook his head. "It seems like a crime of opportunity. His wallet was gone, which was why it took until Tuesday to identify him. But why go this far? Boy's already got head trauma, he ain't in no condition to fight back. Why break his legs? Why leave him out there? It don't make a lick of sense."

"So maybe it_ is_ personal," Cash suggested. "But they're tryin' to make it look like a robbery gone bad by takin' the boy's wallet. Who'd Lloyd piss off this time?"

"Everybody! That's the problem. I've had to issue eleven cease-and-desists to this kid. He's a borderline psychopath, obsessive and narcissistic. I _get_ why someone would want to kick his annoying ass," he admitted. "But I gotta say, this is a bit much."

Deputy Cash suggested they split the list of people who held restraining orders against Lloyd Carter and start from there. On the list were a number of freaks and geeks who frequented to shops in Totem Corners, mostly students from Sagan University, but there were a few natives of Handler's Corners on there as well. The least innocuous case was that of a shop keeper; Maria Wise Raven had banned him from her store for clumsiness and shoplifting. The most disturbing case was that of the daughter of a local defense attorney; Lloyd had watched Kitty Guildenstern through her bedroom window at night and even snuck into her house while she was out. Sheriff Johnson took Wise Raven and Guildenstern in his six, which made Cash smirk; Bubba always seemed to have a soft spot for women. Cash took the other five to interview, figuring he could always double back to recheck if Spinner knew anything.

The deputy grinned. He would just _love_ the chance to pump Spinner for information again.

* * *

><p>Spinner felt dirty and used. The deputy had broken him like a cheap whore. He felt as if—God help him, he felt as if it were his fault for being so weak and thoughtless. He felt as if it were his fault for not being careful. He cursed himself for being so stupid.<p>

For all of their lives, the Cortez twins had shared a room; without the sound of Sherman's soft breathing the silence was deafening. As he tried desperately to get back to sleep again, finally drifting off on the couch, the gamer shivered. Sleep had not come easy that night, and now at six in the morning it was once again in his grasp. But soon he was overtaken by sheer exhaustion; all thought left him as Spinner fell back asleep.

…_nO oNe WiLl EvEr BeLiEvE yOu…_

Spinner jolted awake and off of the couch. He covered his mouth and raced to the bathroom, glad to have had a light dinner as he did the rainbow yawn. Fuck sleep, he thought. To hell with it all if his subconscious was just going to replay the worst night of his life.

After a quick shower, Spinner was at the breakfast table, slouching over a cup of coffee. Normally, he went to sugary soda for all his caffeine needs, but there was nothing normal about this hellish day. A part of Spinner worried that things would never be normal again.

…_yOu AiN't GoIn' NoWhErE, bOy…_

The gamer downed the bitter, black liquid and slapped himself back to the present. He just had to get through today. All he had to do was keep going and everything would be all right.

* * *

><p>Zoom yawned and stretched as he made his way to the kitchen, meeting Tezz as he went. The pair exchanged a nod of greeting. They were the early risers of the team, Zoom being used to early mornings from his disciplined days at the monastery, and Tezz being used to running on very little sleep from his dangerous days as a one man army. The two became used to seeing each other before anyone else almost every morning, though they did not talk much, except occasionally about missions. Zoom and Tezz would eat breakfast in near silence, and that suited them just fine. One thing each of them appreciated, no matter how different they were, was peace and quiet.<p>

So it should have been no surprise to Zoom that Tezz would be so grumpy at the sight of Spinner already at the table. But Spinner, who was usually so obnoxiously loud and energetic, was sitting there quietly with dark circles under his eyes and the awful, sludge-like, day-old coffee in his Yoda mug did not seem to be helping him perk up at all.

Zoom ignored Tezz's grumbling about having to clean the coffee pot and pulled out the cocoa puffs. He poured himself a bowl, even offering some to Spinner, and receiving a feeble decline. The Muy Thai warrior sized up his teammate while he ate, noticing he was already showered and dressed. The cut on his knuckle was healing up better than expected for a three day old wound, which was good. But Zoom frowned as his gaze traveled further up the gamer's arm.

"Those bruises on your wrist can't be from last weekend," he said aloud, causing Spinner to jump.

"What, these? They're nothing! I'm fine."

Spinner tried in vain to hide his hands behind his back, but Zoom's lightning quick reflexes allowed him to grab and hold the cringing gamer by his pinkie finger. "These are hand-shaped, like someone was holding you down. Spinner…what happened?"

The elder Cortez swayed with a sudden nervousness, his heart thudding double-time behind his ribcage, and he thought he would faint right there. "Let _go!_ You're hurting me!" he snapped, pulling his arm away from the worried scout.

"What's got you so riled up?" he asked, concerned. "Spin, we're not just a team, man. We're _friends. _You can tell me. It's okay."

He bit his lip. Maybe Zoom was right. Maybe he did need to tell someone, no matter how scared he was. Spinner's eyes began to water. "Sh-sheriff Johnson had to talk to his wife, so he left me to be processed by Deputy Cash. Cash seemed really _nice_ at first, but he-he-he got rough with me and…and…"

Tezz made a skeptical noise as he poured the freshly brewed coffee into his favorite mug with the science cat meme printed on it. "Your ploy will not be successful," he derided.

Spinner blinked in surprise. _"Excuse_ me?"

"You are falsely claiming police brutality in order to get the charges thrown out, yes?" Tezz asked smugly. "In a small town such as this, corruption cannot be hidden. An officer of the law could not afford to do such things. No jury would take your word over his."

Zoom watched, confused, as the gamer's expression changed from one of shock to a slowly sinking despair, and finally, to a blank mask of numbness.

"You're right, Tezz," he said, throwing up his arms in a surrender. "You're always right. No one would…no one would ever believe me."

The martial arts expert tried to put a hand on Spin's shoulder to calm him, but the gamer scowled, shrugged, and slapped in Zoom's general direction without actually meaning to hit him. "Don't touch me!" Spinner shouted. He ran away.

Zoom scowled at Tezz in disapproval. "Dude! What if Spinner was telling the truth? He didn't have those bruises at the diner last night!"

"That does not mean they are not self-inflicted," he said dismissively. "In any case, even if he was being truthful, it would be his word against that of the deputy. It is best he just cooperate with the investigation so this mess will be over with sooner rather than later."

Zoom worriedly watched the corridor their teammate had just sprinted down. "I don't know, Tezz. Spinner's acting really weird. Like, more than usual, even."

"It is understandable he should be so nervous. I have heard people say there is some question of Spinner's innocence in the attack on Lloyd Carter."

"Be serious! _Spinner?_ C'mon, dude, Spin's not going to beat some within an inch of their life and leave them to die."

"You may think so, but the police cannot be sure of any such thing. It is their job to look into every possibility." Tezz frowned deeply. "Have you imagined what would happen if they needed to gather evidence from Spinner's personal belongings, or worse, attained a warrant for his residence? The investigation could lead them to the hub. Our mission is difficult enough without the government discovering our base and declaring us an illegal militia."

Zoom growled. "They won't need to do that! Spinner's innocent!"

"You think you know a person," Tezz said, shrugging his shoulders. "Then they are accused of attempted homicide. Nothing is impossible."

But Zoom knew in his heart that Tezz had to be wrong. There was something going on here and he had to get to the bottom of it.

* * *

><p>When the alarm sounded and the team went off to fight the good fight, they found themselves in the Flytrap Zone, a tropical-rainforest type zone filled with giant carnivorous plants that strongly resembled venus flytraps. The Red Sentients were failing to make much headway but that meant nothing. Even though the plants had devoured Krylox and Kyrosys, there was always the possibility of an enemy lurking in the shadows. AJ was not faring well in the tropical heat, though Agura was right at home. The Vandals, on the other hand, were having a grand old time. Or rather, they <em>had<em> been until their run-in with the Buster Tank.

As Zoom trekked back through the dense rainforest with the battle key, he witnessed how ruthlessly Spinner was dispatching the Vandals who had just happened upon them. Gone was his laughter, gone was his fear. He was more cold and precise than any Sark with all the brutality of a Red Sentient.

"Remember to spay and neuter your pets!" he spat cruelly, sneering as Kalus scurried off with his tail between his legs.

"Wicked, Spin!" AJ cried as he drilled into Kyburi's shell. "That was ice cold!"

Vert laughed over the line. "We've got the key, team. Let's head home."

Zoom opened the portal home, wondering how Sherman was reacting to his brother's foul mood.


	4. Private Investigation

A/N: It is very frustrating when people put my stories in their alerts, or even their favorites, but don't bother to review. I would like to know _why_ you want to know when the next chapter's up. I would **love** to know _why_ the story is one of your favorites. Even a few kind words, no matter who they come from, can fill my heart with joy and brighten my day. And a lot of people check the reviews a story has gotten before reading it. Please, do the right thing and review. It is greatly appreciated. Thank you.

Oh, and in case no one has noticed yet, let me point out a few details of this story. Mitch "Monkey" McClurg in chpater one was in the AcceleRacers series; I put him in my continuity as a nod to what came before the BF5. And Deputy Cash was first mentioned in "Missing Mom," a story I wrote about Vert's mother being in an insane asylum.

* * *

><p>There was definitely something wrong with Spinner. He had been acting weird since breakfast, and Zoom had heard it whispered that he had even dissed his brother the night before. It was weird to think of the spindly geek as aggressive and mean. Most would chalk it up to nervousness, what with Spinner being a suspect in such a serious crime, but Zoom could not shake the feeling that something more sinister was behind the gamer's misery.<p>

Which was why, about an hour or so after the team had returned from the Flytrap Zone and Zoom spotted the elder Cortez, the Muy Thai warrior followed along. Spinner was walking out of the garage in his civilian clothes when he felt Zoom's hand on his shoulder, and he jumped and squealed like a stuck pig.

"Hey, hey, you're all right," Zoom soothed. "Where you off to, Spin?"

Spinner sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed by how easily startled he was. "I gotta relax, man. I was headed off to Dragon's Wing Gaming."

"Need a ride?"

"No, I'll be fine!"

"You sure? It's already dark out, and whoever hurt Lloyd Carter is still out there."

The gamer broke out in goose bumps and a cold sweat, and an image of the deputy's grandfatherly smile flashed in his mind. "Well…since you offered…"

It was an awkward ride. Spinner really hated not having his own vehicle sometimes. Yes, he and Sherman were nigh inseparable, but it made him feel so dependent. He was not, by far, the youngest member of the team. He was older than Sherman by three hours and older than Zoom by two years. Everyone felt like he needed to be protected, and the worst part was, _they were right._ He felt like a defenseless child, pathetic and wretched. He just wanted to get away.

At the intersection of Totem Avenue and Center Road, Spinner hastily climbed off the bike and mumbled his thanks. But Zoom stopped him, grabbing his arm before he could disappear into the shop.

"Hey, could I just say something?" When Spinner did not answer, he continued. "Don't listen to Tezz. He's been on a moon for ten years. He has no idea how people act."

"But what he said—"

"What he said doesn't matter, Spin. I know—hell, the whole team knows you would never hurt a human being."

"Tell that to Sherman," the gamer said, rolling his eyes. "You know what he asked me earlier? If it was me. Can you believe that shit? He actually thinks I'm guilty."

"And I know you're not. I also know you would never lie about something this big." Zoom frowned, gently taking Spinner's wrist and tracing the bruises. "Dude, if you come forward, you'll have the whole team backing you up. The BF5 looks out for its own."

"I don't need you to protect me!" Spinner snapped, snatching his hand away and storming into the shop. Zoom rode away, confused and dismayed, but Spinner did not care.

The colors, the smells, and the general ambiance of the shop cooled Spinner's anger. These were his people. Here he could be anybody and do anything. He could live another life in a game of D&D or Call of Cthulhu, or he could practice strategy with something soothingly tedious like Magic the Gathering or even Yu-Gi-Oh! As soon as Spinner—no, as soon as TijuanaGenius crossed the threshold, the outside world and all its problems ceased to be, and the elder Cortez felt like he just might possibly be happy again. Someday. Maybe.

"Spinner! Hey, Spinner, right?"

The gamer looked around in confusion until he spotted the girl from Sunday's game session, a petite brunette in a pink vest. "Oh, hey, Kitty."

Though they barely knew each other, she gave him a giant smile and a quick hug—members of the geek community were typically starved for affection and a tad overly friendly as a result—and lead him to a quiet corner. "Are you okay?" she asked, whispering her question. "I heard about the investigation."

"You and everybody else," he replied, facepalming.

"News travels fast in a small town. Would you drop that scowl? It makes you look mean and suspicious."

"Is this better?" he asked sarcastically, crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue.

"Be serious, Spinner. You being innocent won't keep Sheriff Johnson from railroading you. Justice and the law aren't mutually exclusive, if you know what I mean."

Spinner regarded her carefully. "Even my brother's ready to throw the book at me. How'd you know I was innocent?"

"You don't have it in you to commit serious violence," she said, dismissively waving her hand.

"But I never _said_ I was innocent."

"You don't have to. I know it wasn't you. But you still need all the help you can get." There was a steely glint in her blue eyes that made Spinner wonder as she placed a card in his hands. "Call this number first thing tomorrow. Tell them Kitty says it's priority."

Spinner examined the business card. "'Miriam Guildenstern, Attorney at Law.' Relative of yours?"

"My mother. She can talk her way out of _anything._ Your case will be in good hands."

"Kitty—"

She raised her hands in protest. "Hey I know you're innocent, and you know you're innocent, but this whole mess _reeks_ of a frame job. Sheriff Johnson's wife is the prosecutor, his mother is the local judge, and elections are coming up. People are gonna want a quick conviction, and you're the only guy they're looking at. I hate to break it to you, Spin, but those are _lousy_ odds."

Spinner stared into space for a while, contemplating her statement. This whole time he had been trying to come up with a way to forget about what Deputy Cash had done to him, and still he had completely forgotten the possibility he would be imprisoned for a crime he did not commit. Come to think of it, Sheriff Johnson was pretty hardcore when it came to upholding the law and was not an ostensibly reasonable man. He was overzealous, and if no other suspects arose, the trial could be rushed through and Spinner falsely convicted. And a cute little guy like him would be ripped apart in prison.

"Hey, maybe you should sit down. You look really pale." Spinner obediently followed the deeply concerned gamer girl to a semi-occupied table. "There we go, nice and easy. Why don't we join in on this nice, relaxing game of Munchkin?"

* * *

><p>Vert turned his wrench, wanting to get some work done. But his heart just was not in it. He was tired, he missed his parents, and the war had no end in sight. There were days when his sense of duty were all that kept him from throwing in the towel. At least, in the beginning that had been it.<p>

When he visited his mother in Brush Hollow for the first time in two years, she had asked him about a girlfriend. His first thought had been Agura, and for a few minutes the shock had turned him into a blushing schoolboy. He knew he had…those kinds of feelings for Agura for quite a while. She was strong and confident, and always looking out for her friends. And that heavenly body of hers—woof! But up until recently, he had hoped it was merely a crush he would be able to overcome. Yet here it was, plain as day; he was head over heels in love with her.

But they were in the middle of a freaking **war!** This was no time for romance! And no gentleman commander should presume to court his lady lieutenant! He would not want people to think she was coerced because he was her boss. He certainly would not want _her_ to feel that way. But if he waited until the end of the war to do anything about his feelings, she might not be there anymore. There was always the chance of losing someone on a mission, a thought that made him tremble with dread. And of course, Agura might love someone else. There were so many things that could go wrong!

The blonde could have pondered this issue forever and a day, but his angst was interrupted by his favorite and only scout, fast approaching on his motorcycle.

"Hey, Zoom!" he cheerfully greeted, welcoming the distraction. "What are you up to? Where ya been?"

"Just giving Spinner a ride someplace," he said. "Crazy what's going on with that Lloyd Carter thing, right? I mean, he wouldn't hurt a fly!"

"Yeah, it's pretty nuts. And really, it could've been anybody that did it. I'm not saying he got what he deserved, but I'm sure a few people think so. I went to school with Lloyd Carter, and he's a major douchebag. There'd be folks lined up around the block to take a swing at him. Spinner was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Zoom hesitated a moment. "Vert…Spinner, um, he seemed pretty rattled when he got back from the station. He just ran past everybody. And then today I asked him about it, and he said they got rough with him when he was being questioned."

"Sheriff _Johnson?"_ Vert asked incredulously. "No way. He can be a jerk, but he's just doing his job. He's way too serious about upholding the law to ever go that far."

"No, not the sheriff. Spinner said it was some guy called Deputy Cash."

Vert grimaced. This was not news he wanted to hear.

When Jack Wheeler had disappeared, and Vert was scared and lonely, Roy Cash had been there for him, an adult he could trust and talk to. He was always there with a smile, the pleasant contrast to the sheriff's grim demeanor. He was active in the community, not just as an officer of the law, but as the coach of their little league team, the Handler Jackalopes. But people talked. A small number of townsfolk whispered that he was not all he seemed. Vert's mother had even shouted as much during her psychotic breakdown. Vert narrowed his eyes, deliberating over his mother's insane ramblings and years of town gossip. Yes, Janet Wheeler had accused Cash of murder and pedophilia, but no charges had ever been filed. And once Janet had been put away, the doubt faded, and Cash was considered an upstanding citizen again.

"Vert?"

"There were…rumors, a few years back," he finally relented, choosing his next words very carefully. "That Deputy Cash had maybe…hurt one of the boys on the baseball team he coached. I don't know all the details, but nothing was ever proven."

Zoom frowned, pondering. "Hurt _how?"_

Vert rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Zoom's gaze. His silence was all the answer the scout needed. Zoom's eyes grew wide as a myriad of terrible possibilities filled his mind.

"I fucking knew it!" Zoom exclaimed. "Spin was totally freaked! There was no way he was lying! That bastard crooked cop must've done something to him!"

"We don't know that."

"Vert, you didn't see the look on his face."

"The accusations got hushed up last time," Vert warned. "The woman who implicated him was committed to a mental institution, so no one took her seriously. But, if she was right…"

"Then he could have been doing this for years and used his position to get her locked up! Corruption in Handler's Corners! Shit!"

Zoom and Spinner did not always get along, but the scout felt sympathetic to his plight. The scout could not entirely remember what happened after he was abducted by AJ's evil alternate universe counterpart, and he hoped it stayed that way. The last thing he remembered before waking up in the memory chair was being lugged over Dark AJ's shoulder like a damsel in distress and carried down an ominously dark hallway. But sometimes, he would see a dental pick or a garden weasel, and he would get these little…flashes: a laugh, or a smile, or the whir of a drill. Those images, those sounds, would haunt him. He would relive the same moment over and over again, unable to shake them no matter how he tried, until some outside action distracted him. Sherman had told him it was some post-traumatic stress thing, but Zoom just tried not to think about it. To see Spinner with that same look in his eyes, like he was stuck in his own head reliving the worst moment in eternity, was all it took for Zoom to know something was wrong.

"He looked so scared, Vert. He keeps flipping out whenever anybody touches him."

"We'll talk to him together when he gets back," the blonde confirmed. "And Zoom?"

"Yeah?"

"You did the right thing coming to me. We'll make sure Spin's okay."

Zoom hoped his leader was right.


	5. Five Stages of Grief

A/N: Exhausted, achy, probably losing my mind. Going to post this, go to bed, and hopefully bake cookies tomorrow. I...I'm not sure what I'm doing with my life. I'm so tired.

* * *

><p>They had it all set. Spinner had said he was staying at Dragon's Wing for three hours, at which point Zoom would go to pick him up. He would deliver the gamer safely back to the hub, where Vert would be waiting. The three of them would have a long talk about how much Spinner's safety and wellbeing meant to them. From there, once the gamer was calmed from his inevitable breakdown, they would personally escort Spinner to speak with Sheriff Johnson and <em>only<em> Sheriff Johnson. Zoom and Vert would never let Spinner out of their sight; he would be perfectly safe and the deputy would get what was coming to him. It was the perfect plan.

…Except for the part where Spinner came home early, and in no mood to talk. After only an hour at open gaming, Spinner had a panic attack. That panic attack turned into a crying jag, and the girl from his RPG group awkwardly called Sherman to pick him up. And apparently, on the ride home, the brothers had quite the heated discussion.

"I already told you, I had nothing to do with it!" Spinner screeched. He rushed past his teammates, fists clenched in rage. "Yeah, I knocked his ass out! Yeah, I'd do it again if I had the chance! But I went straight to Dragon's Wing after that."

"Spin, if that's true then why are the cops even looking at you?" Sherman shouted back. "If that's not the whole story, you need to tell me!"

"That **IS** the whole story! And maybe you haven't noticed, but they only questioned me **ONCE** as part of _standard procedure, _okay? That doesn't make me guilty!"

"Spinner, you're acting weird all the time! I know something's wrong! Why won't you tell me what's going on?"

Spinner slapped away the hand on his shoulder. "Don't fucking touch me!" he screamed, lashing out. His fist connected with Sherman's face and there was a loud thwack.

A stunned silence followed as Sherman stumbled back. With wide, shocked eyes, he brought his hand up to his nose, examining the blood that now stained his fingertips. He stared at his brother in astonishment until Spinner grumbled and stomped off, leaving a speechless Zoom and dumbfounded Vert to deal with the aftermath.

"He hit me," Sherman said quietly, his eyes beginning to water. "He's never hit me b-before. Not even when we were little."

"I'm sure he didn't mean it, dude," Zoom soothed, delicately taking the gentle giant's face in his hands. "Lemme look at you…it's not broken. You're okay, big guy. Just a little bitty nosebleed."

Sherman pouted at his youngest teammate baby-talking at his minor injury, wiping the blood off on his arm. "I'm not worried about my nose, Zoom. I'm worried about Spinner! He's never acted like this before. And with the police asking all these questions, what am I supposed to think? Sheriff Johnson came looking for me earlier today, asking if Spinner had a tendency for violent behavior. I told him, 'of course not! Spinner's never thrown a punch in his life!' I've always protected him, but…But it looks like people need to be protected _from_ him."

Vert gave him an incredulous look. "Pump your brakes, Sherman. Spinner's just going through some stuff. I know he'd never do something like that."

"I wish I could say the same thing, Vert," he lamented, shaking his head. "He's barely even spoken to me since before he left Sunday. He could've done anything."

Vert scowled at the soft chuckle that issued from a certain Russian's mouth. Tezz Volitov stepped out from the doorway of the lab where he had been enjoying the show. "Perhaps the stress of the battle zones has finally become too much for Spinner. It seems to me he has grown more unpredictable as of late. It is possible he could be suffering a nervous breakdown."

"Tezz!" Vert warned.

"No. No, Vert, he's right." Sherman gulped. "The sudden change in behavior, the violent tendencies—it all makes sense. Oh my God, Spinner…"

Tezz smirked. "You might as well take him to Brush Hollow to stay with the other lunatics."

That statement was all it took to send Vert careening over the edge. For a moment, he well and truly snapped. It was well known that the leader of the Battle Force 5 had a temper, especially when his teammates were hurt or frightened. That was par for the course with the Crimson One, after all. Vert had kept his family secret buried for so long, but it still hurt to hear such derogative things about the mentally ill, even if he knew it was not directed his way. Shoving back the tide of anger that demanded he rip Tezz's throat out, the blonde settled for scaring him a bit while he set the record straight.

"My _mother_ is in Brush Hollow," Vert snarled, grabbing the flabbergasted electromagnetics expert by his shirt collar. "So believe me when I say I know crazy, and Spinner's _not_ crazy. Yeah, Sherman's right, there's something very wrong here. But I _won't_ have you antagonizing a teammate who's clearly in a lot of pain. I don't tolerate bullies. Got it, Volitov?"

Tezz swallowed. "Y-yes, Captain. Please, forgive me. I had no idea." Tezz scampered off to the lab, and for a moment, Vert caught himself thinking that was where rats belonged. He shook himself free of the fury that had momentarily seized him, taking a deep breath. No matter how worried he was for Spinner or stressed out about his mother he was, lashing out at his teammates was inexcusable and he knew he would feel awful later.

"What's Brush Hollow?" Zoom asked innocently.

Sherman sulked. "It's a psychiatric hospital in the next county," he said softly. "Oh, Vert, your mother? Why didn't you say anything?"

"It wasn't important to the mission," the blonde snapped, sulking. Janet's release was imminent and it was true his team would find out eventually, but his bloodline and the madness that ran within it were his least favorite subjects.

"Well," Zoom said. "Maybe we should think about it."

"Zoom!"

"No, I mean, something's wrong with Spinner, right? So maybe he should talk to a shrink. I'm just saying it could help him, is all!"

Vert ran a hand through his hair. "It might a good idea in the long run," he reluctantly agreed. The blonde sighed. "But I think we should let Spin have the night to cool off. We'll talk to him tomorrow."

* * *

><p>Portal activity had been more frequent lately, and the members of the Battle Force 5 were on edge, ready to jump at a moment's notice. But even interdimensional heroes have to eat. The team was headed out for pizza yet again. Most of them had already gone, in point of fact, while Sherman and Tezz had elected to stay in the lab.<p>

"Move or lose it, Vert!" Agura cheerily called out as she started up the Tangler.

"You go on ahead," he told her. "I'm waiting for Spinner."

Spinner had enjoyed yet another sleepless evening on the couch fraught with horrific nightmares. The poor boy would lose the will to live if this kept up. He was exhausted. But more importantly, he was weak, he was scared, and he did not want to be bothered with human contact. Yet here was his captain, dragging him up to the surface when he just wanted to play some games. Vert insisted Spin at least needed some fresh air, as he looked pale and sickly. But once they were up, he tried to convince Spinner to accompany him to the diner, and the gamer went right for the elevator.

"Spinner," the blonde called, reaching out but not daring to touch. "Wait up, buddy! I just want to talk."

"So talk!" Spinner snapped. He sighed as Vert pulled away. "What do you **want,** Vert?"

"I saw you arguing with Sherman last night," Vert told him. "That's some right hook you've got. You've been holding out on us."

Spinner stared blankly, too irritated to be flattered at the compliment. Vert cleared his throat.

"Look. I know you're under a lot of stress from the investigation, but you've gotta try and chill out. The way you're acting is scaring everybody."

Spinner grumbled. "I'm scared _too,_ y'know. _I'm_ the one they're looking at. And I didn't even do it!"

"So you didn't hurt Lloyd; fine," he said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "But _something_ must've happened or you wouldn't be freaking out like this. Maybe it would make you feel better if you talked about it."

The gamer froze. He knew it was killing him to keep it bottled up. He knew what happened was not his fault. He was the victim. And Vert was strong; strong enough to protect him from anyone. He was virtuous and trustworthy, and a fine battle strategist, too. He would be able to help. He would _gladly_ help his teammate, who he cared about like family. But Spinner was scared. As he blinked back a few tears he could hear the deputy laughing at him.

…_No one will ever believe you…_

Spin shook his head. No. Vert would believe him and protect him from the corrupt cop. They were friends, and Vert knew something was wrong. He was only prying because he was worried about Spinner. He was only trying to help.

Spinner hesitated. "I'm scared, Vert."

"It's okay, Spin. You can tell me."

"What I told Sherman about Sunday," he said, sniffling. "Every word was true. But…some other stuff happened later."

Vert slowly and gently put his hand on Spinner's shoulder. "What happened, Spinner?"

The gamer's eyes went wide at the sound of an approaching engine. He closed his mouth and silently prayed for God to strike him dead. A police cruiser pulled up to the garage, and, just to prove he was the multiverse's chew toy, Deputy Cash was driving. He stepped onto the asphalt nonchalantly, friendly smile beneath his grey moustache, and firmly shook Vert's hand.

"Howdy, there, Vert," he said warmly. "How ya been?"

Vert smiled politely. "Hello, deputy. To what do we owe the honor?"

"I'm here about Spinner's case," he said. "The good news is Lloyd Carter woke up. Seems he's going to make a full recovery!"

"That's great!"

"Unfortunately, he don't remember a thing about the past week an' we ain't any closer to tracking down who jumped him. I'm checkin' 'round, try and see if there's anything we missed."

Vert frowned. "Are there any other suspects?"

The deputy glimpsed grimly at the gamer. "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss that," he drawled. "In the meantime, I'll need to take Spinner in to review his statement."

"I already told you everything," Spinner whimpered, but Vert did not seem to notice his fear.

Cash smiled. "Well, that's as may be, but it could be you forgot something important you saw that could lead us to the real perpetrator."

"Spinner's happy to help, Deputy Cash," Vert said, much to the gamer's alarm. "We'll be right along."

"We? Oh, no, no, no! I think it'd be better if I took him in. He's an adult. He don't need you to hold his hand."

"I don't see any reason why I shouldn't be allowed to accompany him."

Spinner inwardly cheered, feeling lighter than air. He was safe! Vert was awesome!

But Deputy Cash raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by the slim young man. "I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation," he said. "If I gotta come back here with a warrant it's gonna reflect poorly on Spinner. And if you continue to stand in my way, I may be obligated to charge you with obstruction."

Vert glanced down at his teammate, conflicted. He did not wish for Spinner to be in deeper trouble due to his own stubbornness. As much as he wanted to keep an eye on Spin's erratic behavior, either of them failing to cooperate with police would look very bad indeed. The gamer was in enough trouble as it was.

"Aw, look, I didn't mean to offend you," Cash apologized. "Just tellin' it like it is. I'll drive him down to the station and I'll bring him back when we're done. Sound good?"

Vert deliberated for a moment. "Actually, could you drop him off at Zeke's Diner? We were planning to meet some friends."

The deputy smiled. "Much obliged!"

'_I'm not going anywhere with you!'_ Spinner wanted to shout. _'I have rights! I'm not talking to anyone without a lawyer!'_ But he was too shocked to speak. The wind had completely left his sails, and his shoulders sank with defeat. Vert had been his last, best hope. But now he had been handed over to the devil; his fate was in God's hands. He could not get away. He was trapped like a rat, and not even his gentle giant brother, the person he loved and trusted most, could help him now.

Deputy Cash turned towards Spinner with a friendly smile. "You ain't under arrest, yet," he said. "You can save face and ride in front. Wouldn't want folks' tongues to start a-waggin,' now…"

Dejected, Spinner took his seat on the front passenger side of the cruiser, taking one last look at the leader of the Battle Force 5.

He was alone with the monster.

Vert watched the police cruiser drive away. He had a lot of happy memories with Roy Cash. The deputy had seen him through some rough times, and Vert was grateful. But something was going on here. The blonde hoped he was wrong, but if there was any possibility that his friend was in danger, he could not afford to take that chance. He went through the contacts on his cell phone.

* * *

><p>A tinny version of the theme from <em>Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog<em> issued from Sherman's communicator watch.

Tezz grumbled and dropped what he was working on to yell at the younger Cortez, annoyed at the interruption. He had proposed many times before that they institute a ban on communications devices in the laboratory, but there was always the possibility that they would be needed. Sherman stepped away from the console where he had been working on deciphering an ancient language. With a smile, he glanced at his caller id before answering.

"Hey, Vert," he said. "What's up?"

"_Sherman, Deputy Cash just picked up your brother and he didn't seem too friendly. I think shit just hit the fan."_

Sherman's smile disappeared. "What? What did he say?"

"_He just took him and threatened to arrest me if I asked any questions. Something's off, man. I don't like this."_

Sherman's mind raced with all sorts of terrible possibilities. Spinner would never make it in prison! The other inmates would rip him in half! "Thanks for the heads up, Vert. I'll go to the station right now."

Tezz frowned as he watched the younger Cortez head for the door. "We still have much work to do, Sherman."

"You'll just have to go on without me, Tezz," he said, apologizing. "I'll be back later tonight."


	6. Cry Wolf

A/N: Okay, first thing's first! A big thank you to everyone who reviewed! **Kgirl1, Melosa, cyberneticterrorist, dglsprincess105, **you guy's are my favorites! I always appreciate feedback. It is seriously what keeps me going. SO MANY HEARTS AND FLOWERS AND CHOCOLATES FOR YOU GUYS! And lastly, there will be one more chapter posted after this, an epilogue explaining a few details about Roy Cash and some set up for another story later. Word of advice: DO NOT skip the epilogue. It's seriously kind of a come out of nowhere thing, whether or not you've been paying attention to small details from this and "Spinner's Day Out" and already know what's up, I still think it's pretty shocking. So here we go! The almost end!

* * *

><p>It struck Sherman as odd that as he made his way to the Sheriff's Department, he never once saw a police cruiser on the road. He figured he must not have left in time to quite catch up to this Deputy Cash who had absconded with his brother. When he got to the office, there was only one cruiser in the lot. The younger Cortez figured this meant the sheriff was out and the deputy was the only one at the station. But once he stepped through the doors, he saw Sheriff Johnson lower the file folder he was leafing through and raise his eyebrows. Unless they had taken some roundabout way he was unaware of, Sherman really should not have arrived ahead of them. It was strange that they were not yet there. But he shook off his worry, putting on his professional face.<p>

Sheriff Johnson grumbled, clearly annoyed to be distracted from his work. The sheriff had been trying to puzzle out the nature of Lloyd Carter's attack, hoping the testimony he had gathered would give him some insight. But something was seriously off about this whole mess. It was the way the boy's legs were broken that bothered him. The fractures were precise, according to the hospital—or as precise as one could get using an aluminum bat. This was not a frenzied attack, but something cold and premeditated. The fact that the boy's wallet had been taken, and that Lloyd himself was left on the border between counties, had caused a great deal of confusion in identifying him and stalled the investigation. Such malicious aforethought made the sheriff nervous. It gave the crime an almost organized feel. _'Maybe I've been working this from the wrong angle,'_ he thought. But he closed the folder and glared in Sherman's general direction. The case would have to wait.

"Can I help you?" he drawled, annoyed.

"I hope so," Sherman answered. "Deputy Cash came and picked up my brother for questioning. I was hoping to provide some moral support."

Sheriff Johnson raised his eyebrows. "That's strange. Roy's got the night off. He said he had personal business to attend to."

"What? But…but then where's Spinner?"

"That's a good question..."

Sherman's communicator watch crackled to life. He rolled his eyes, wondering what could be so important.

* * *

><p>Spinner stared straight ahead, too afraid to move. The situation was looking bad now, but it was only a matter of time before things got worse. It was better that he did not instigate. He tried to think happy thoughts. Maybe Sheriff Johnson was waiting for them, and the round of questioning would be brief. Or, maybe this was just a scare tactic to keep Spinner from talking.<p>

But the deputy had not said a word either way, only chuckling to himself. And deep down, Spinner knew they weren't there to talk. This realization came dreadfully to life as the police cruiser left the road and went off into the desert.

The gamer wept bitterly. He was trapped again. Even if he jumped from the moving vehicle, there was nowhere for him to run to, no one to interfere, and plenty of places to hide a body. It was over.

Well. If he had nowhere to go, he might as well get the evidence to bring Cash down. There was no hope for him; no one could save him. And as he glanced at the deputy's gun belt, the gamer knew he would never make it home. The elder Cortez was beyond caring, a man with nothing left to lose. Finally his depression over Tuesday night's events gave way to tranquil fury and acceptance. If he had to die, he would do so with integrity and make sure Deputy Cash never hurt anyone again.

Spinner pushed the transmit button on his communicator watch.

"This isn't the way to the station," he said in a worried voice. "What's going on? Where are you taking me?"

Deputy Cash laughed. "That's what's so sexy about you, boy. You're so innocent it drives a man to sin."

"Not again," he whined. "Please don't hurt me, not again..."

Cash only snickered at the gamer's misgivings. Spinner whimpered as the cruiser came to a stop. He tried to be brave, and mostly succeeded, until he heard the click of a gun and felt the cold metal against his head. He turned to glare at the deputy, terror and defiance filling his eyes.

"You'll never get away with this!"

"Of course I'll get away with it! You think this is my first rodeo? I did the others an' ain't nobody even gave me a second look. Even if I decide to let you live this time, no one would ever believe you."

"Let me go!"

They struggled, and in his annoyance and frustration, Deputy Cash whipped the barrel of his gun upside Spinner's forehead. The gamer yelped, slumping in his seat.

"You ain't goin' nowhere, boy," the deputy growled, holding the dazed Spinner down. "You even think about sayin' anything and you'll find out just how big this desert is." He paused, chuckling, an evil glint in his eye. "Just like your 'friend' Lloyd did."

Spinner began to sob. He slapped at the hand that was starting to rip his shirt off, crying and yelling hysterically.

"Scream all you want, boy," Deputy Cash purred. "Ain't no one gonna hear ya out on the flats."

* * *

><p>Zoom stared at his communicator watch in shock and disgust. He had begun to hope he was wrong, if it meant Spinner was okay. But the broadcast was too much evidence to ignore. The scout finally snapped out of his trance as Vert barked orders, sprinting for the Chopper. Spin was with Deputy Cash, but he would not be alone for long. They had to save their friend.<p>

Confused and worried, Grace turned to Stanford. "What was that? That sounded like it was coming from your watches."

"Tezz engineered communications devices into them as a side project," the royal lied, lingering behind to call the sheriff as his friends mobilized.

"That was a live transmission, people!" Vert yelled. "Spin's in danger! Let's move, move, move!"

The Tangler, the Saber, and the Gear Slammer streaked across the desert, trailing behind the speeding Chopper. They zipped across the salt flats, following the tracking beacon in Spin's watch. Within minutes the police cruiser was in sight, as was a second cruiser that Sheriff Johnson was climbing out of. But the sheriff was not out fast enough to catch the younger Cortez.

Sherman jumped out of the Buster and ran for the first cruiser, slamming his elbow through the driver side window and reached in, yanking the stunned deputy out of the car by his hair. Cash went for his gun, but Sherman crushed his hand completely as he disarmed him, and the deputy screamed. By the time the rest of the present BF5 were out of their vehicles, Sherman was stomping Cash into the ground.

"He's down!" the sheriff cried. "He's down, Cortez! That's enough! It's over!"

Sheriff Johnson tried unsuccessfully to pull the usually gentle giant away from Cash, but finally managed it with the help of AJ's brute strength. Sherman struggled as he was pulled off of the dazed and bleeding deputy.

"Leggo, leggo, LEGGO!" he snarled, clawing the air and giving the sheriff a nasty scratch, unable to reach his real target. **"KILL YOU! RRRRRRRRAAH!"**

Cash lurched away, backpedaling out of kicking distance from the behemoth who had taken all leave of his senses. Seeing that Sherman had clearly become a danger to himself and others in his current state, Zoom swiftly struck a pressure point on his neck that painlessly rendered the younger Cortez unconscious. The deputy breathed a sigh of relief, leaning against the cruiser and regaining his grandfatherly smile.

"Well, thank you kindly, young man," he told Zoom, failing to notice the scout's glare. "What a night! Bubba, I tell ya, I was just askin' Spinner a few things off the record, and he went plum loco. The boy tried to grab my gun, see, but—"

Cash gasped in pain from Zoom's strike, curling into a ball of misery. The young man could have used a painless pressure point like he had with Sherman…he simply chose not to.

"We heard every word, Roy," Sheriff Johnson intoned. He glared down in contempt. "Dammit, Roy, I can't believe I let you fool me all these years…Janet Wheeler was right about you."

Cash struggled to sit up, still hurting badly. "Aw, c'mon, Bubba!" he whined. "Don't tell me you believe that crazy bitch! She tried to kill me!"

Sheriff Johnson took out his cuffs and shook his head in disappointment. "Maybe I should have let her."

While Sheriff Johnson stripped Cash of his rank, Vert, Zoom and Agura attended to Spinner. The hysterically sobbing gamer was huddled in the passenger seat, trying to hold the shredded remains of his shirt together. Though he knew there was no use in attempting to preserve his dignity, he insisted on covering his shame. Spinner screamed every time either the leader or the scout tried to touch him, and no matter how they tried they were unable to calm him down. After a time, Agura was eventually able to coax him out of the car.

"Spinner?" Vert asked quietly, reaching for him one last time, and pulling back when the gamer screamed again. "Spinner, it's okay, buddy," he soothed. "We're here for you. You're safe now..."

Spinner whimpered, shying away from him and into Agura's arms. He had a long recovery ahead of him.

* * *

><p>Seeing one of his closest friends so terrified was heartbreaking for Vert. He felt so helpless knowing that there was nothing he could do to protect him, nothing he could do to make the hurt go away. The blonde knew Sherman must have felt a thousand times worse, especially after the EMTs refused to allow him in the ambulance with his brother. Spinner was off to Blessed Angels of Mercy Hospital so the doctors and police could catalog his injuries for evidence. His teammates followed along behind the ambulance.<p>

Even Tezz left his lab in such a hurry to be sure the gamer was alright. Like the others, he had heard in excruciating detail as the attack was happening. The genius was wracked with guilt over not believing Spinner, dwelling on his mistake. He went straight to the hospital to check on Spinner, giving Sage several updates throughout the evening.

All of the gamer's closest friends were there for moral support over the next few days, his brother never letting him out of his sight, and he began to recover enough that Vert felt it acceptable to leave the hustle and bustle for a bit.

Cash's arrest was a milestone for the community. The rumors that had gone ignored for so many years were at long last proven true. There had been one person, just one, who had continually insisted Roy Cash was evil. She kept shouting to the heavens what she knew to be true, and it had landed her in the loony bin. She deserved to know, now that she was vindicated.

Brush Hollow Psychiatric Hospital was not too much further out than Mercy, though the former was generally considered a worse place to end up than the latter. Vert prayed to whoever might be listening that Spinner would not have to be transferred from one place to the other. The poor gamer had been through enough without having to end up like…

"How can I help you?" the lady at the front desk asked, interrupting his train of thought.

"I'm here to see my mother," Vert said.

Vert went to the community room like he had the time before, but soon a guard came and got his attention. The blonde became alarmed; had his mother had a relapse and attacked someone? His heart filling with dread, Vert meekly followed the guard to a private room with a table and three chairs. He sat to wait, frightened, until Janet Wheeler finally arrived.

"Mom!" he exclaimed, trying not to let panic creep into his voice. "Is everything okay?"

"Of course, sweetie. I'm fine." She patted his face and frowned. "Calm down, Vert. You're scaring me. What's wrong?"

"Why did they bring us to a room? Are the voices worse? Are you—"

"Vert, honey, _stop,"_ she commanded, gazing sternly until her son returned to his seat. Satisfied, Janet sat across from him. "Now tell me what's got you so rattled."

Vert shifted uncomfortably. "You were right," he said quietly.

"Come again?"

"You were right about Cash. Remember Roy Cash, the deputy?"

A flood of horrible images washed over Janet's mind as she stared at Vert in abject horror. "Did he touch you?" she was finally able to stammer.

"No," her son answered. "But he hurt one of my friends."

"Oh, Joseph," she sighed, holding him. "I'm so sorry. Are they okay?"

"They say he's going to be. He's pretty freaked out, though. You should've seen Spinner crying, Mom; it was awful."

"Oh, honey, I'm glad you came to see me," she said softly, hugging him and stroking his hair. "I just wish it were under better circumstances."

Vert was quiet for a moment, thinking. How to phrase this without upsetting her…?

"…Mom?"

"Yes, dear?"

"If you say you're fine, I believe you," he started carefully. "But how come the guards brought us to a private room like they used to?"

_*chkkt* Actually, I asked them to do that. *chkkt*_

That was right; the guards had stayed outside. They were alone in the room, only being given the illusion of privacy. Vert and Janet were still being watched and could not see through the one-way glass of the observation window, but neither had to see through it to know who the voice on the intercom belonged to, or to guess who was about to waltz through the door. Mother and son shared a glance, but not a word passed between them; instantly, both knew the sheriff was in town.

Sheriff Bubba Johnson strode calmly but purposefully through the door of the visiting room and took the third chair at the table. He fidgeted for a moment, getting comfortable as Janet rolled her eyes.

"For the last time, Eugene," she drawled, exasperated. "I don't know where my husband is."

"That's not why I'm here, Janet."

"Well, that's new. What do you want? And hurry it up, would ya? You're cutting into visiting hours."

Sheriff Johnson sighed, taking off his old aviator shades and rubbing at his face. "I wish," he said, looking Janet right in the eye, "That I had let you kill Roy Cash. Everything he did, all the people he hurt…when I think of all the years I called that monster my friend… it sickens me. I _failed_ this town. I let that wolf in sheep's clothing prey on the folk I'm supposed to protect. I shoulda let you slash 'im from ear to ear."

Janet stiffened uncomfortably in her chair; this had been quite an unexpected answer and she felt guilty for needling him. "I know he's a bad guy, but for what it's worth, Eugene, I'm glad you didn't. We both know you would've felt awful afterwards."

"I know, but…" He paused, searching for the right words. "I want to make things right between us."

"What?"

"You didn't get a fair shot, Janet. We hardly looked at Roy when you pointed yer finger at him. You deserved better."

Vert took his mother's hands in his own before looking up at the sheriff, pleading with his eyes. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Well, we've established that Roy's a liar and an animal."

"Understatement of the century," Janet muttered.

"A lot of cases could've been pushed through without proper evidence," he continued. "We're checking out everyone he ever put away."

"But there were witnesses! I took a man hostage, Eugene. There's no question of innocence. I tried to kill a man!"

"A man who deserved worse."

"But what about the law?"

Sheriff Johnson set his jaw. "If there's anythin' I learned from all this it's that justice and the law aren't mutually exclusive."

Tears rolled down Janet's face and she took in a sharp, shuddering breath to keep from hysterically giggling. "So I'm free to go? Just like that?"

"I talked to the hospital administrator," the sheriff said. "He says you've been cooperating and making every effort to improve. He wants another two weeks to be sure, but he no longer thinks you're dangerous. After that, you can go home."

Vert burst out laughing, taking his mother in his arms and spinning her around. The nightmare was finally over.

* * *

><p>AN: And now Vert's mommy is getting out of the psych ward! Wheeeeee!


	7. Epilogue

A/N: Now that the important stuff with the main cast is wrapped up, this is just a little something with the minor characters and my OCs to fill in the little background details and tie up loose ends. **However.** This is also meant to set up another story I'll be doing called "Local Talent" in which Spinner will be splittng roughly equal time with Sheriff Johnson and the OCs who show up in this epilogue. Fun Fact: Local Talent is a slang term for small town gangsters who are occasionally employed by big time crime bosses to take care of business in the outer edges of their territory. Enjoy!

**EDIT:** I totally forgot to mention! I'm also getting ready to post a quick crossover story in order to expand Vert's family! You remember the Titus family mentioned in Missing Mom? There was a very dark sitcom called Titus that aired on the Fox network circa 2000-2003, written, directed, produced by, _and_ starring comedian Christopher Titus. Go check out his standup specials Norman Rockwell is Bleeding and The Fifth Annual End of the World Tour!

* * *

><p>Prosecuting Cash was a lengthy process. Threatening Spinner with a similar fate as Lloyd Carter had implicated him in the assault, freeing Spinner Cortez from all suspicion. It seemed to all involved that Cash had seen Spinner, who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, as an easy target and meant to frame him. With all misgivings focused on Spinner, the boy would disappear, but not before Cash had some fun with him. Of course Cash protested his innocence. He even claimed to have an alibi the night Lloyd Carter was assaulted. But the 'lady friend' in another county he claimed to be seeing was found dead of strangulation, with the coroner estimating time of death as four hours before Lloyd was attacked. Cash admitted to choking her, though he thought she was merely unconscious, but no one believed a word he said. Two recent assaults and a murder were just the tip of the iceberg. Ten boys of various ages, most of them now nearly adults, came forward at the news that Spinner had agreed to testify. These young men had all been on the local little league team that Roy Cash coached, and all brought forth tales of chronic abuse at the former deputy's hands.<p>

Things looked grim for Roy. Local ace attorney Miriam Guildenstern was already retained by Spinner Cortez and had refused to even accept Cash's calls. In fact, no one local was willing to help Cash. He wound up with an inexperienced public defender from Las Vegas. Between Sheriff Bubba Johnson, Madame Prosecutor Annabeth Johnson, and the Honorable Judge Granny Johnson presiding, he never stood a chance. The Johnsons had a monopoly on justice and they used it to get swift convictions on all counts, attaining peace of mind for Cash's victims and their families.

But there was still a lot of work to do before the once sleepy hamlet of Handler's Corners could find closure. A lot of cases had to be reviewed. Cash was no paragon of virtue. He could have fudged evidence, abused suspects, intimidated victims or harassed witnesses. Every suspect or witness who had suddenly 'left town' could have been killed, buried in the endless desert under cover of night. How many were there that they would never know about? How many would they never find? How many, besides the ten boys, the lady in Sagan, Spinner and Lloyd?

Sheriff Johnson knew he had failed. He failed the citizens he was sworn to serve and protect. He had been so blind that if Spinner had just disappeared without a trace, the sheriff would have just listed him as a fugitive and put out a warrant for his arrest. It _killed_ him to think that he had never seen through Roy's friendly mask to the sociopath hiding behind.

So of course, when he got the call from a nervous, frightened young man who wished to remain anonymous, he agreed to meet near Crash Canyon in the dead of night, no matter how suspicious it sounded. Victims had strange sensibilities, he reasoned. And so many unsolved crimes occurred in nearby big cities that he had to take his chances and gather any evidence he could. It would have been child's play for Roy to drive up to Las Vegas or Reno and do something terrible, only to leave without a trace. If this witness mentioned Roy Cash even once, it was Sheriff Johnson's duty to take what he said seriously.

He drove through the desert, surveying the rock formations until he spotted a Chevy Impala, maybe 2002 or 2003 model, dark blue. The vehicle looked familiar, but he could not recall who he had seen driving it. He parked about fifty feet away and stepped into the night, suddenly feeling wary about the situation.

"Hello?" he called, looking around and seeing no one. The sheriff heard footsteps behind him; somebody had been hiding behind the rock formation that lead up to Crash Canyon, waiting for him. He reached for his gun, but he was too slow. All he saw was a flash of something metallic swinging towards him.

"BONK! Ha ha!"

Sheriff Johnson fell to the ground, all the sense knocked out of him, seeing stars from the intense agony that bloomed behind his eyes. He lay there, woozy, struggling to get off the ground. The sheriff felt someone fidget with his gun belt, lacking the strength to stop them.

There was an appreciative chuckle. ".38 Chief Special," said a deep, not entirely unfamiliar voice. "Old school. Nice."

Sheriff Johnson recognized this voice. He knew this person. He just could not recall where he had heard this particular baritone, not through the fog of his newly acquired head injury.

"I prefer an aluminum bat myself," said the deep voice's friend. "Seems more…personal."

There was no mistaking his nasally tenor and Bugs Bunny inflection. Tag Castelucci went back to Brooklyn to visit his extended family almost every year, never losing the New York accent his father and grandfather had also been known for. If Tag Castelucci was here, then the deep voice almost certainly belonged to Bink Ford. Those two were joined at the hip.

Sheriff Johnson heard the hammer being pulled back on his .38 and felt the cool metal against the left side of his head. The aforementioned bat struck the ground to his right, mere inches from his hand, as if warning him not to try anything stupid.

"What the hell is this?" the sheriff slurred as the two young men pulled him to his knees. As he finally raised his head to look, Sheriff Johnson watched a pair of pink sneakers delicately stepping into view of his headlights. The figure that stood before him was petite and feminine, a small and slender young lady with short chestnut hair and blue eyes. Because of her stature she looked much younger than her actual twenty one years, and seemed quite harmless in her pink fleece vest. But recent events had taught the sheriff not to judge a book by its cover. The gamer girl smiled as she looked down at the prone officer of the law.

"This," Kitty said amicably, "is us having a little talk."


End file.
